


Transformation

by Thrasirshall



Category: Adventures of Tintin (2011)
Genre: F/M, Genderbending, M/M, Transwoman, Transwomen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-07
Updated: 2014-09-07
Packaged: 2018-02-16 13:18:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2271171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thrasirshall/pseuds/Thrasirshall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set after The Castafiore Emerald, Tintin and Haddock enjoy their quiet return to normality.<br/>Then Haddock finds he knows very little of Tintin, despite their living together.</p><p>Genderbent!Tintin/Haddock, and a surprise character who is transgender.</p><p>Originally posted for the Tintinkinkmeme on Dreamwidth under the same username.<br/>Some minor edits.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. All I ask of you.

**Author's Note:**

> A short, straightforward (but hopefully enjoyable) genderbend fanfic that I sincerely hope people find reasonably believable. 
> 
> I hope.  
> This is set after The Castafiore Emerald, with snippets from The Broken Ear due to the one-sided Alcazar/Tintin. 
> 
> If there's anything in regards to transgender info I've gotten wrong, I apologise in advance.

 

Sunlight streamed in through tall windows, sending particles of dust zipping across the air. It was beautiful, because it was outside, and the blue eyes watching the sun longed to feel its warmth. The windows were too high to feel it, and she felt cheated, wishing she wasn’t constantly standing in the shade. It wasn’t her fault the nun had layers of clothes on, and complained of being too hot.

 

“This way, this is your line.” The nun ordered, pushing a short red headed girl into a long line of other girls, “You’ll be put to work here, and you’ll be made useful.”

She looked across the lines of people, all heads down, some glancing up before quickly looking to the floor again in case anyone saw them.

It felt like a line to the morgue, the little redhead thought.

 Looking up at the nun, a weary looking woman in her fifties with greying hair sticking out from her habit, the girl opened her mouth to say something before the nun shushed her instantly, glaring.

“You will not complain!”

“I – I just want to know what I’ll be doing…”

“Work, for the factories. Something useful other then eating and sleeping.” The nun replied, “If you behave, they might give you a nice job, like cooking for the workers. Now _shush_.”

“Do I…”

“ _Shush_ I said, you ugly little girl!” the nun nearly screeched, and the women – all aged between eight and fifteen, shrank from the red headed child that didn’t seem to understand why her questions were always met with anger from adults. She was always told that adults knew best, and she should listen to them, but more often then not, adults seem to tell her nothing when she had questions. It had gotten to the point that she wondered if adults knew anything at all, but only pretended they did.

   
The nun grabbed her arm and pulled her close, pointing angrily at her, “You will _shut up_ and _stop_ asking so many questions, and because it is here you will stay and work, just like the rest of these girls! Women are to work, not to question!”

 

“What will the boys do?” the girl asked, wincing at the pain in her arm, but nonetheless, this adult is going to tell her _something_.

 

The nun’s eyes seem to light up like fire, but something must’ve given, because she sighed lowly, releasing her, “If I answer this one last question, will you be silent?”

 

The girl nodded, grinning.

 

“They will go to school, and if they work hard, they’ll have jobs.”

 

“That sounds much better then work.” The redhead pointed out.

 

 

 _Snip_.

 

Too ugly to be a girl, she thought.

 

 _Snip_.

 

But no one minds an ugly boy.

 

 _Snip_.

 

I can do this, she thought, her stomach filling with dread at the idea of being caught. She’d been too quick for the elderly nun to catch her, and no one else had tried to help the old witch, as getting involved was the wrong thing to do. The little girl was tired of being slapped for just asking questions.

 

Huh. Working in a factory – or going to school?

 

She grabbed another handful of hair and sliced the scissors through it, and her blue-green eyes looked down at the sink as the red locks fell, before looking up at the mirror again with burning determination in her eyes, far beyond her years.

 

_“Tintin?”_

 

An older, pale, wide-eyed face stared back at him, his freckles looking like leopard spots against the white skin. Sweat clung to his forehead, and his clothes stuck to him like glue. He jolted a little when he heard a gentle knock on the door.

 

_“Tintin, are you all right?”_

 

“Ye - ” Tintin started, only to clear his voice to try and sound less hoarse, “Yes, yes Captain, I’m fine. I’ll be out in a moment.”

 

Tintin covered his mouth and struggled to hold another cough in, watching the blood slide down the drain slowly.

Why, _why_ was there blood? He gripped the sink so hard his knuckles were white, but Tintin was convinced his shaking legs would give out if he didn’t. He forced himself to calm, breathing through his nose slowly. He wheezed quietly, feeling the pain in his chest subside a little before turning the faucet and glaring at the sink until it was completely clean again. Hanging his head, Tintin’s mind raced.

What was he going to do? This had been going on for _far_ too long…

 

Splashing cold water on his face, Tintin closed his eyes for a moment to gather himself. This _really_ had been going on for too long if the Captain was starting to get worried.

He grabbed a towel and patted his face and hands dry before unlocking the door. The captain stood there, his arms folded.

“I was starting to wonder if you’d drowned in the bathtub.” Haddock joked lightly, though Tintin could detect a lilt of concern in his voice.

“Sorry captain, I... must be coming down with something.” Tintin half-smiled, but quickly avoided the captain’s suspicious gaze as he brushed past him.

“Well, I’ll call a docto - ”

“No!” Tintin whirled around, making the captain jump, and made an apologetic face, “Sorry… Captain. I’m fine, honest.”

Haddock looked less then convinced, but sighed in defeat. Tintin laid a hand on his shoulder, “It’s just a bit of a cold, that’s all. You know how badly I handle colds.”

“Into the living room wit’ye.” Haddock nodded towards the hallway, “I’ll make you a hot whiskey at least.”

 

For all his gallivanting off around the world, Tintin knew that his place by the fire, Snowy dozing at his feet, and Captain Haddock sitting opposite him in Marlinspike’s main living room, would always be his absolute favourite place.

 

Tintin would also never tire of the routine. He would have a book, sometimes Haddock would too – or a newspaper, but most of the time, the captain would simply sit contentedly and enjoy a smoke.

The radio would be on low, just to catch the evening news, and whatever music filled the rest of the night up was all they needed.

Of course, not so long ago, the poor captain’s estate had been filled with reporters, cables, cameras, photographers, and all sorts of other headaches in the form of Divas that he could’ve done without.

Now it looked and felt as if this wonderful peace had never been disturbed no less then two weeks ago.

 

 _This is all I need_. Tintin smiled to himself, turning a page slowly and sipping at the hot whiskey that Haddock had made him.

Then he realised that he hadn’t actually taken in what he’d just read – his mind quietly _nagging_ consistently at him about his coughing, and the blood, and…

He glanced up at Haddock to see if the older man would notice Tintin turning the page back to re-read it again, but the only thing Haddock noticed was the music that had begun to play gently from the radio.

 

_“No more talk of darkness._

_Forget these wide-eyed fears._

_I'm here, nothing can harm you._

_My words will warm and calm you.”_

 

Tintin felt himself sink a little into his chair, watching Haddock smile a little at the song. _Phantom of the Opera_ was the only opera that Tintin had somehow coerced the captain to see with him.

Haddock may not admit, but he sincerely enjoyed it, and it was evident when he started to hum softly along with the song, sometimes very quietly singing along with the lyrics.

“I'm here, with you, beside you….to guard you and to guide you…”

Tintin smiled, despite himself, and grinned when the captain spotted him looking. Haddock cleared his throat, looking to the side, and slightly embarrassed, until he looked at Tintin in surprise when the boy reporter began to softly duet with Christine’s lines, _“Say you'll love me every waking moment. Turn my head with talk of summer time. Say you need me with you now and always. Promise me that all you say is true.”_ Tintin gave Haddock an encouraging smile _, “That's all I ask of you….”_

 

A strange glint appeared in Haddock’s eyes, and he smiled back, following Raoul’s words, then Tintin followed Christine’s, before the two lovers in the radio sang together, and the two listeners sang along with them.

_“Share each day with me, each night, each morning…”_

 

 _“Say you love me.”_ Tintin tilted his head a little as he sang softly, not realising that Haddock’s eyes were on him for the whole song

 

 _“You know I do,”_ Haddock followed, before they both finished, “ _Love me, that's all I ask of you.”_

 

Then the music rose dramatically, and Tintin found himself chuckling softly, shaking his head, “What are we like, Archie.”

 

Haddock smiled, before it turned into a grin, “I’m sure we’re something, lad.” Then he shrugged, “ Well, I suppose people must view us as something!”

 

Haddock quickly regretted his words as Tintin gave him a surprised look, only to feel relieved confusion as the reporter’s eyes took on a strange glint, only to smile into his book.

Haddock took a small breath, wondering if he was not only tying his noose, but wrapping it around his own neck as well.

 

“Lad… I was wondering something.”

 

Tintin looked up again, and Haddock found himself silent for a moment as he studied Tintin’s face. The lad was so young, but seemed to be so much more worldly then him. Wiser.

But for all their adventuring together, Haddock came to a conclusion, out of the blue, that he knew very little of Tintin’s past. Several times, it had come up, but somehow Tintin always managed to swerve his way around the topic, and Haddock knew by this point where Tintin had been, and what he’d done. But not where he was _from_ , who his family was…

Questions like these never really crossed the captain’s mind often, but when they did, Tintin suddenly became a jigsaw with half the pieces missing, and it bothered him more then he thought it should.

 

“You… uh.” The captain started, moving his hand to scratch at his beard nervously before indicating to Tintin – then did it again, “I was wondering if you had… a lass, because, you know, I uh… you’d been a little… quiet, lately.”

 

Tintin cursed inwardly, “Oh, I… didn’t realise…”

 

Haddock, sensing Tintin’s discomfort, then quickly waved his hand in dismissal, “Ach, nevermind me! I’m being nosey!”

 

Tintin bit his lip tightly, his mind racing on how to answer Haddock. He should’ve seen this coming, really. It was only a matter of time before it would start to look unusual for someone young like himself to _not_ be out chasing ladies – and Tintin had caught himself staring a little _too_ much at Haddock at times, stubbornly hoping against hope that they would be together no matter what, for years to come, and no one else would come into it.

 

Even if Haddock had no idea what the truth really was.

 

An old guilt welled up inside of him – never truly buried, and Tintin shrugged a little, smiling awkwardly, “No, it’s fine captain! I, uh…” he suddenly sighed, feeling his chest tighten again, “No, I have … no one in mind.”

 

“All in due time, lad!” Haddock grinned, though Tintin was quick to notice the forced smile. He’d seen the captain feigning politeness to Castafiore and other people he found more then irritating to _know._

 

A strange silence fell, sans the radio’s voice.

 

“Captain?”

 

Haddock looked up, and that strange glint in Tintin’s eyes was there again, “Yes lad?”

 

“… Were you ever married?” Tintin’s tone was even, polite, though his stiff posture suggested hesitation, “I don’t think you’ve ever told me.”

 

“Nah, lad, I never was. Left a few broken hearts, mind.” Haddock grinned, a real grin this time, to Tintin’s relief, and the captain sat back, a thoughtful look on his face. It amused and slightly shamed him if Tintin were to ever find out. It was one-sided with Chester, but the man had grinned it off and nothing had changed between them, Allan…

Haddock quickly shooed Allan out of his mind as _that_ time in his life was something he’d finally stopped being bitter about. Ever since Tintin quite subtlety turned his life around (and sometimes upside-down) Haddock… never really thought about his bad past anymore. He had a ginger devil to keep an eye on, so there wasn’t much room for anything else.

 

“Well, I’m a bit old now for marriage anyway.” The captain smiled.

 

“That shouldn’t matter.” Tintin pointed out quickly, his face earnest, “I don’t think you’re too old. Would… you like to ever get married?”

Haddock laughed, and the air seemed to clear, “Well… We’ll see what happens. For now, all is exactly how I’d like it to be.”

Tintin found his words curious, and he wondered if it was because he suddenly felt light-headed that he would _still_ drag this out, “Even if it’s with me?”

Haddock blinked, surprised, and more then a little concerned, “But, lad, you know I always enjoy your company. Come hell or high water. Whoever comes through that door doesn’t change that. Surely in Tibet you knew - ”

 

Ah. Tibet.

 

Tintin would never admit to still having horrid dreams of Haddock plummeting to his death. All because of _him_.

 _You’re a selfish person, Tintin. You **always** have been_.

 

“I know, I know.” Tintin waved his hands, ignoring that ever nagging voice in his mind, “That was… Well… I’m... not sure what I would have done with myself if you had fallen. I can’t really imagine life without you.”

 

It was as close to a confession as the captain would ever get.

 

A faint blush crossed Haddock’s face, “Ah. Lad. Don’t worry about it.”

 

“No, really.”

 

The two looked at one another for a long moment, both tangled up in their flurry of thoughts, and feeling like a tall, invisible wall was between them.

 

Then the phone rang.  


	2. Ten Twenty-Five

Tintin put the telephone down, a bemused look on his face as he leaned on the table. Haddock, after hurriedly pouring himself a glass of gold, he was mid-sip as his eyes stared unblinkingly at Tintin. _Please_ don’t let it be….

Then Haddock paused, quick to notice how _tired_ Tintin had started to look these days…

 

“It seems the Thom(p)sons never brought the emerald with them to Japan.” The reporter smiled, _knowing_ what this was going to entail, “Bianca will be here in a few minutes – they’ve just arrived in Belgium.”

 

Tintin didn’t need to say anymore as Haddock, drink abandoned, suddenly grabbed him by the shoulders, turned him around, and started hastily shoving Tintin towards the hallway doors.

 

“Nestor, pack my bags, and Tintin’s – we’re staying in America until Castafiore leaves!”

“Very good, sir.” Nestor nodded, but only casually started to walk up the steps. Master Haddock would be too busy panicking to notice, and by the time Nestor would even have the suitcases out, Lady Castafiore would be there at their doorstep. It was a routine the neutral-faced butler and Tintin were quite used to by now.

 

“Captain.” Tintin started, as the panicked seaman was running around looking for his wallet, finding it, then putting it down as he tried to find his pipe, then putting _that_ down as he tried to find his wallet again –

 

“ _Captain_.”

 

“All hands abandon ship!”

 

The doorbell rang, and Haddock froze, one leg up in the air mid-run. Tintin stood there, arms folded, Snowy sitting at his feet, his head tilted at the Captain’s strange behavior.

Nestor was at the door before Haddock could roar at him to bolt it, and there stood the Milanese Nightingale, beaming at everyone. Irma peered at everyone from behind the Diva’s shoulder innocently.

“Madame.” Nestor nodded, “Welcome.”

Bianca strolled in, “Ah, so foolish of me to forget my precious emerald! Thank you kindly for minding it.”

The Captain trudged down the stairs like a man on his way to execution, and he stood before Bianca.

“Captain.” Bianca smiled, and Haddock simply nodded, “Madame.”

It was like the air had turned to ice, and Tintin glanced between the two of them, astonished at the actual coldness the Captain was displaying, and mindful as always – he noticed that Irma and Nestor had disappeared without a word…

“Hello Madame, how are you?” Tintin quickly came back to reality, and the woman grinned.

“Marvelous, Tintin, as always! Japan was so…”

She waved her hand in a circular motion to try and emphasise her point, “… Otherworldly!”

Then Snowy whined at the door, glancing between it and Tintin.

“Ah, excuse me.” Tintin smiled, “I’ll be back in a few minutes, and then I’ll give you your emerald. It’s safe in my room, Madame.”

 

With that, Tintin left the two – wondering briefly if something _really_ had occurred during Bianca’s last stay… and started to entertain some worrying thoughts…

 

Back inside Marlinspike, Nestor had returned with coffee for the two adults. Irma had disappeared, but Haddock didn’t even notice as he looked everywhere but at Bianca. Nestor set the tray down, but knowing Master Haddock – he quickly left the two to their… skirmishes.

The butler glanced at the clock on his way – finding it to be much later then he’d anticipated, as it was nearly ten pm.

 

Ten-twenty.

 

…. Ten _twenty-five_ ….

 

Haddock tapped his finger on the rim of his cup. So far, he and Bianca had said very little.

Where the hell was Tintin to get him out of this mess? He said he’d only be a few minutes…

 

Bianca, surprisingly quiet, sipped at her coffee, before setting the cup down gently. Haddock glanced at the cup, but said nothing.

Bianca opened her mouth to say something before a sudden, frenzied scratching and barking at the door made the two adults jump.

Haddock leapt up, half-because he wanted _out_ of that room, and the other because normally Snowy was more well-behaved then to scratch as badly as that at the door. Nestor had hastily come to the door to open it and Snowy, absolutely frantic like Haddock had never seen, came dashing around the hall and barking furiously.

The captain, from experience, immediately knew something was very wrong.

 

Before he could even stop the dog, Snowy bolted outside again between Nestor’s legs, still barking furiously. Bianca and Haddock followed the terrier, nothing more then a white blur going down the gardens and disappearing into the trees.

Listening for the barking, Haddock and Bianca continued through the trees until they found what was causing Snowy to go mad.

“Mercy!”

“Tintin!” Haddock exclaimed, rushing to the boy’s side. He was unconscious, lying in a crumpled heap in the grass.

Haddock turned him on his back, fearing the worst. Tintin’s face was deathly pale, and sweat clung to his cheeks and forehead. The captain could feel how feverish he was through his clothes alone. 

 

Bianca, picked up a handkerchief lying on the grass, quick to notice the spots of blood, and her sudden change of tone surprised the captain, “Get him inside, quick.”

 

Haddock lifted Tintin into his arms, running back to the house and yelling for Nestor to call a doctor.

 

The mansion was completely silent, save for Nestor’s voice – usually calm and collected – only now his tone was near volcanic, surprising everyone before the butler promptly slammed the phone down.

Taking a moment to gather himself, Nestor retained his calm self once more and turned to the Captain. Tintin was on the couch, still out cold, the Captain and Bianca at his side.

 

“I’m afraid it’ll be an hour before he can get here, he’s currently treating another patient, sir.” Nestor conveyed, looking worried. Haddock stood and made to start cursing before he simply grunted in annoyance, looking down at Tintin’s unconscious form. Bianca was quiet, dabbing a cold cloth over the reporter’s face.

 

“Uh… gentleman…”

Everyone turned to see Irma, having locked Snowy in the pantry as the dog had everyone running in circles in panic.

The small woman cleared her throat, Bianca giving her a hopeful look.

“I was an assistant nurse before working for Madame, so… if you’ll permit me, I can have a look at Tintin.”

Nestor and Haddock looked at each other, and then Irma. They didn’t notice the slight glint of pride in Bianca’s eyes.

 “We’ll bring him to his bedroom.” Haddock offered, “And Nestor will give you whatever you need while I’ll try for another doctor.”

 

An hour passed. It was already dark outside.

 

There was silence in the living room, Haddock leaning forward on his armchair with the phone by his side. They had to be able to do _something_! The doctor was _still_ not available, and would phone when he was on his way! He had insisted that he drive Tintin to a hospital – but Irma, with the wrathful sternness of a hospital matron, commanded the captain to stay put as Tintin could not be moved.

 

Haddock, defeated, was so fraught with worry that he didn’t even _notice_ that Bianca hadn’t screamed her usual dramatics, or fainted, or anything, actually. She had been unusually calm. Haddock was however, doing his best not to make any kind of comment to incite any kind of conversation. Nestor seemed to steer completely clear of both of them too, and

 

Instead, she was sitting on the couch with a fretting Snowy on her lap. After barking the house down, Bianca felt it was best to let him out.

The terrier was feeling a mix of anxiety for Tintin, especially that he wasn’t allowed be near him! And there was slight confusion, as Snowy couldn’t remember a time when this Bianca woman with the awful voice had ever pet him!

It wasn’t so bad though as she was actually very gentle, even as Snowy’s ears were flattened with misery.

Very little had passed between the two adults, until Bianca stood up slowly, easing Snowy from her lap and stroking his head to try and keep him there. Haddock only glanced at her before resuming his stare with nothing, almost completely deaf to Bianca’s clicking heels.

 

Then he found a glass of whiskey in front of him, held by pink-nailed fingers.

 

“I think you’re allowed this for once.”

 

Haddock blinked at the glass before looking up at Bianca. She gave him an encouraging smile before gesturing the glass to him. Haddock took it, a mixed expression on his face as Bianca then walked past him.

 

“I’ll see if Irma can tell us anything, Captain.”

 

Haddock remained silent, watching the pink-clad woman clicking out to the hallway. With Snowy as the only witness, you would swear Haddock, peering mournfully into his glass, looked utterly regretful.

 

The hallway was warmly lit, though it felt as if it were midnight. Bianca strolled towards Tintin’s bedroom, a thoughtful expression on her face as she examined the paintings hung on the wall. She couldn’t deny that Tintin and Nestor may have had a hand in the decoration as Haddock would probably have paintings of ships _everywhere_.

Smiling a little to herself, Bianca reminisced a little about Tintin. If her suspicions were correct, there was no doubt that even though Haddock could afford any kind of medical care that Tintin may need – she had no qualms about dipping into her own self-made fortune to assure the boy’s recovery. He was worth more then any fortune.

 

Stopping at Tintin’s door, Bianca leaned forward a little to see if anyone was speaking before gently knocking at the door. There was movement, until the door opened a crack. Irma’s cautious face peered through, until the shorter woman relaxed.

 

“Hello Madame.” Irma greeted, stepping out into the hallways.

“How is he?” Bianca asked softly, and Irma closed the door behind her quietly. She looked concerned, but something in her eyes told the singer that there was something else…

Irma glanced about the hallways carefully, not making it obvious she was on the lookout for eavesdroppers – though she had sent Nestor to take Tintin’s clothing.

 

“I’m not sure how we can explain this to the Captain, my dear.” She said, turning to Bianca, “Tintin has Tuberculosis, and has had it for a while. All the symptoms check out, even though I think hospitalization is in order, as soon as possible.”

 

“But why didn’t he go to a doctor? I would’ve thought Tintin had more sense then that.” Bianca covered her mouth and shook her head, baffled.

 

Irma nodded, pointing to the ceiling, “He would have, if there wasn’t one problem.”

Bianca took her hand from her mouth, looking expectantly at her maid.

 

Irma looked at Bianca coolly, “He, is a she.”

Bianca’s eyebrows rose, before they sunk again into a frown, and voiced exactly what she thought she heard, “Tintin is female.”

“When I was changing her clothes, I discovered a wrap around her chest, rather cleverly disguised as a sleeveless vest. I made sure.” Irma shook her head, still wrapping her head around it, “She had me completely fooled.”

“She had all of us fooled, although…” Bianca’s voice trailed off, before she glanced at the door and suddenly lowered her voice, “Is she awake?”

Irma shook her head, and touched Bianca’s arm, “No Madame, and I need to get the Streptomycin antibiotic as soon as possible, or Tintin will get much worse. We’ll deal with this other matter later.”

 

Bianca nodded, patting Irma’s arm back, “Take care of her for now.”

She then began to move down the hallway towards the stairs, “I shall deal with this. I will make a phone call.”

 

“Say nothing, for now.” Irma reminded her, opening the bedroom door, “I’ll stay with Tintin.”

 

 

Tintin’s freckles stood out even more with how pale she’d become, and her breathing was wheezy and sallow.

 

Irma gently mopped the girl’s face and neck with a cold wet cloth whenever beads of sweat clung to her forehead. Tintin’s sleep clothes were already slightly damp. Having quickly gotten over the discovery of Tintin being female, Irma concentrated more on keeping her temperature down. Nonetheless, the persistent question of _why_ nagged at her, and the implications of this discovery were not going to sit well with the young reporter when she wakes up. Not that such a secret bothered the middle-aged maid, but she knew it would greatly bother Tintin.

 

“Oh, Cuthbert… do you think she’ll be all right?” Irma sighed, looking up at the professor. He looked grim, and despite wearing the hearing aid, he didn’t seem to have heard Irma as he had Tintin’s hand clasped between both his own. The fact that Tintin was female didn’t seem to actually phase him one bit as he’d visibly displayed how upset he was when Irma had told him the prognosis. Since then, he’d kept a vigil at Tintin’s side for the last three hours. No one had let Haddock in yet.

 

“Cuthbert?” Irma pressed a little louder, and he looked up quickly.

 

“Oh, sorry, dear… sorry. The poor child. She looks so pale. Makes me… ” his moustache bristled a little, “Makes me wish I was an actual doctor and not some… some old goat mucking about with numbers!”

“Cuthbert…” Irma reached over and touched his arm, “Don’t be like that... You’ve helped countless people with your talents.”

Calculus gave the black-haired maid a smile, but said nothing more.

 

“Bianca said her doctor will arrive soon…” Irma comforted, before she suddenly stifled a yawn. Calculus looked between her and Tintin before he slid his slim hands from Tintin’s still one, patting the top of it before he offered his hand to Irma.

 

“You need a rest. Let’s have some hot chocolate.”

Irma stood and gave Tintin one last look before linking arms with Calculus, “Her temperature is down, so a half hour wouldn’t hurt…”

Calculus’s moustache seemed to fluff up as he smiled, and he kissed Irma on the cheek,“ I worked on a new recipe for you!”

Irma smiled back, a faint blush crossing her cheeks. She still worried for Tintin, but… leaving for a half hour wouldn’t hurt…

 

 

Downing his drink, Haddock had enough of waiting around. He’d been told quite firmly to leave Tintin to rest, but he was … was just so worried! Bianca had assured him, after making a phone call done entirely in Italian, that her own private doctor would be here soon… but soon wasn’t coming fast enough. The singer then decided to take Snowy outside for a while, not so subtlety hinting that Haddock should go to bed.

Psh – who was that… that squalling parakeet to give him orders in his own house!

Haddock _had_ to see if Tintin was all right with his own eyes at least.

 

Like a man on a mission, Haddock climbed upstairs, spotting Irma and Calculus walking into the kitchen, and _knowing_ this was his chance to see how his dear friend was faring…

 

At Tintin’s door, Haddock knocked twice, listening for any kind of movement before he opened the door gently. The lamp by Tintin’s bedside bathed him in a warm light, but even with the gentle glow, beads of perspiration still stuck to Tintin’s skin, and he was as pale as the bedsheets.

Haddock closed the door gently and made his way towards the bed, though he was unsure if Tintin could even hear him – the boy was so…

Haddock stopped mid-step.

So still…

 

He blinked, once then twice, before coming to the side of the bed. Tintin’s nightshirt was wide open in some attempt to keep the fever down. Haddock thought he was losing his mind – maybe it was the light, the _whiskey_ , but he’d only had _one_ and Bianca was the one who’d given it to him…!

The captain reached out with both hands, and slowly parted the rest of Tintin’s shirt.

 

Tintin’s peaceful, if sickly expression, remained the same.

_  
“Master Haddock!”_

 

Haddock jerked up, looking towards the door as he heard Nestor call him from downstairs. Snapping his head back and forth between Tintin and the door, Haddock moved to close Tintin’s shirt, albeit with hesitant, shaking hands, before running out to the hallway. Nestor jogged upstairs.

 

“Sir! Madam Castafiore’s doctor is here!” Nestor relayed, relief all over his face. Haddock nodded dumbly, his lips parted to try and say _something_ of what realisation, what _secret_ had just dawned on him. Instead, he was met with a short and thin middle-aged man that asked in pigeon English where the patient was, and all Haddock could do was point at Tintin’s door.

 

 

Three days passed.

 

 

 

“How do you feel, Tintin?”

 

“I… Not well, Madame,” Tintin started, not sure _how_ she could ever repay the singer for such a favour, “but, thank you for getting me your doctor. I… appreciate you keeping my secret hidden. It means the world to me.”

 

Sitting down at the small desk opposite Tintin, Bianca waved her hands to stop the younger woman from standing.

 

Then Bianca grinned, and Tintin nearly fell off her chair when the singer spoke again.

 

“Seems I’m not the only one who has a little bit of a secret.”

Bianca’s voice was deep, the Italian accent still quite thick – but it was unmistakably a _male_ voice. A long silence passed, and the cogs in Tintin’s mind seemed to stop before suddenly whirring rapidly.

 

“Yo… you’re…?” Tintin gaped, unable to help but point at Bianca.

 

“Indeed, darling. I’m just as every bit of a hunky male as darling Haddock is.” Bianca laughed heartily, “Amazing what a bit of powder and stuffing does for you, eh? What can I say? I make a fine woman.”

 

Tintin’s jaw was slack, before she shook her head, “But, why – how…”

 

“My doctor is paid very, very well to keep things to himself.” Bianca winked, “Nice man though, I trust him to keep our secrets.”

Then Bianca shrugged, “Otherwise, I would make sure all of the papers would have a field day with his sudden ruined career.”

She then spotted a box on the desk, and discovered it was cigars.

“Oh! May I?”

Still blinking stupidly, Tintin only nodded dumbly. Tintin didn’t smoke, but the cigars had been a gift from one of his many adventures. Haddock sometimes smoked them, so Tintin didn’t mind keeping them in his room. Bianca smiled in thanks and slid the box towards herself, and took one out.

 

Habit caught Tintin examining the label for a moment, before he had to remind herself that they were real cigars. Bianca admired the label on the cigar for a moment before lighting it up. Taking a long drag, Bianca sat back lazily, sighing contentedly as she blew a massive cloud of smoke towards the window, away from Tintin.

 

A complete, and utter contrast to what _the_ BiancaCastafiore would ever do.

“You learn a lot when people think you’re an airheaded idiot, _cara mio_. ” she grinned, pointing at Tintin, “And I had my suspicions for a _very_ long time. You’re not pretentious, and you weren’t out to do the usual thing that men do – try and woo me and badger me with cheap gifts.” Bianca took another puff and blew out of the window again, “So I said to myself: Bianca, that boy is either a homosexual, or he’s a woman.”

Tintin was speechless, blinking almost stupidly at the singer. Bianca only continued, either pretending not to notice Tintin’s absolute astonishment, or didn’t notice it at all.

 

“I figured you being homosexual was more appropriate what with Archibald being so very fond of you.” Biancatapped the ash of her cigar into an empty cup, “He’s _definitely_ one anyway, I’m never wrong about these things.”

“You… so…” Tintin started, before shaking her head, “But, I don’t understand, why tell me such a secret? I wasn’t going to share anything - ”

 

“Because I’m _fond_ of you, Tintin.” Bianca stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, before she finished with a secretive smile, “And I’m fond of Archibald too.”

 

Tintin felt a tug in her chest, before feeling like her heart had suddenly shrank. But… it all made so much more sense now; why Bianca was constantly all over the captain, why shewas always showing up uninvited…

So… it wasn’t just the singing that bothered Haddock…

“But what about Professor - ”

“Oh, he found out, and yes...” Bianca chewed her lip; regret on her face, “He… was not happy. But then I told him that he should give his roses to someone who would certainly love them more then I…”

 

Biting her own lip, Tintin knew she had to be the better person. Plus… she was pretty convinced Haddock wouldn’t even want to _look_ at her when they would speak later…

“But… surely…” Tintin started, before clearing her throat again, “Once the captain knows you’re a - ”

“Oh he already does, _cara mio_. He still can’t stand me.” Bianca interrupted and grinned. Tintin then realised the sudden iciness between the two suddenly made complete sense.

Bianca shrugged, “Besides, I visit because Cuthbert and Irma can spend time together too.”

Then the grin melted a little, and she sounded a little more somber, “I was a bit too late in asking him. He has eyes for another, you know.” She waved her hand dramatically in the air, “And _who am I_ to deny love’s path? I am no true _artiste_ if I were to deny two lovers their eternal embrace!”

Bianca’s knowing look at Tintin made the reporter pause, and Tintin took a long breath, “I know. But I’m not …”

 

“Psh, Tintin, darling, that doesn’t matter a bit.” Bianca dismissed, “If Archibald is as fond of you as I _know_ he is,” She pointed the cigar at Tintin, “ **Love** , will be the key.”

Tintin opened her mouth to say something, but only a small noise came out, and she closed it again, shaking her head. What _could_ she say?

“Whatever words you have, darling, they are for Haddock.” Bianca smiled, before she gestured to Tintin to shoo, “Now off with you! He’s downstairs and rather eager to speak to you.”

Tintin slowly stood up, half-moving to walk towards the door, until something crossed her face and she turned around to Bianca. The diva gave Tintin a curious look, before she found arms around her shoulders, the reporter’s smiling cheek against his temple.

“Thank you, Bianca.” Tintin said softly, “You’re a beautiful person, inside and out.”

Bianca only smiled back – not really sure what else she could say or do as her chest suddenly welled up with emotion. She pet Tintin’s arm, “Of _course_ I am. Go on, silly boy.”

Tintin did as she was told, still smiling as she headed for the door.

 

Bianca sighed softly, only to grunt in annoyance as she remembered how badly mascara smeared over silk gloves.


	3. Truth

 

Tintin walked into the room slowly, and the air so thick, she clutched the chest of her jumper as if she couldn’t breathe. The Captain was standing in front of the fire, his hands clasped behind his back, his shoulders square and tense. He’d been there a while, but a quick sniff, and glance at the liquor cabinet told her that Haddock hadn’t touched a drop of whiskey.

Normally – _normally_ , such a thing would’ve been a pleasant surprise, but things _weren’t_ normal. Not anymore. Haddock _not_ drinking only added to the _not_ normal.

 

And Tintin wanted nothing more then for things to just go _back_ to normal.

It didn’t matter if she could never tell Haddock what she truly was – being close to him, being his _friend_ , was enough for her…

Haddock turned when Tintin closed the door behind her with a click that sounded like thunder. They looked at one another for a long moment, before Tintin cleared her throat, looking at the carpet.

Swallowing, Tintin braced herself. For what, however, she had no idea.

“How are you feeling?” Haddock asked softly, and Tintin looked up at him in surprise.

“… I…” Tintin started, “Bianca’s doctor gave me medication that I must take for a few months, and it will… clear up.” She swallowed slowly, “He said I must be… checked regularly…  as must you… just in case.”

 

It didn’t answer Haddock’s question, but he didn’t push it. Tintin had set her own hands behind her back, and he could tell she was intertwining them over and over – a habit h… _she_ had whenever faced with an uncomfortable situation. Those were rare, and few between, but Haddock knew every last one of Tintin’s habits down to a tee.

 

Then Tintin took a long breath, and the intertwining fingers stopped when she looked up straight at Haddock, her jaw set.

“I never wanted you to find out. Not this way, at the very least.” Tintin said softly, “…I didn’t want anyone to find out, at all.”

Haddock chewed his lip a little, feeling a little like a fool, but more confused then anything else what with _all this time_ that had passed between them, and he never…

 

Haddock sat down slowly into his armchair, half-thinking about getting a glass of whiskey into himself, before the captain decided against it. He didn’t want Tintin to take his silence as anger, and he indicated to Tintin’s own armchair, “Tell me… Tell me everything.”

 

Tintin’s eyes looked between Haddock and the chair, and she walked towards it, not meeting Haddock’s eyes as she passed him and sat down.

There was a long silence as Tintin sat there, fingers tapping the armrest in thought for a moment. Then she remembered that night when they had jokingly sung together in this very room. Oh… Tintin felt like the biggest fool in the world.

She shifted in her seat, looking at Haddock “… I’ve never told anyone this. Not even Chang.”

“ _Chang?_ ” Haddock exclaimed, before Tintin leaned back, hands raised to beg further explanation.

“He found out by accident when I saved him from the river.” Tintin half-smiled from the memory, “He saw me taking my vest off when I thought he was still unconscious. He swore to keep it a secret, because I had saved his life.”

Haddock leaned back against his own armchair, having several questions run through his mind, and he wasn’t sure which to ask first that wouldn’t lead to _more_ questions.

 

“I …” Tintin rubbed the back of her neck, “When I was eight years old, I was taken from the orphanage to a large office where they recruited children. Boys would be sent to school, girls would be sent to the factory to work. It was … Well. it was not something I saw myself doing willingly. Even when I was in the orphanage, I played with boys, I dressed like a boy just so they would accept me – despite the nuns and the priests beating me and telling me where my place was. The more they tried, the more I rebelled. I was an ugly girl, they had constantly said,” Tintin shrugged a little, “So I thought: Why not be a boy?”

Taking a breath, Tintin remembered that dusty building, the long lines of children, the scratching of pens on paper, murmurs of people who were only there because of a paycheque, and forgot the outcomes of those they signed away.

“In that building, I realised I had a choice. Men have more options, men are the ones who get educated and have some kind of chance at a life to make for themselves.”

 

Tintin’s eyes clouded a little, “I took that chance, knowing I would never have it again if I simply went along the path that was paved for me. I ran, I hid; I cut my hair off in the bathroom and flushed it down the toilet. Then I stole a shirt and pants, and chancing fate, I joined the boy’s line, pretending I had gotten lost. The priest of course, just simply shoved me into the line, and ... ” Tintin shrugged, going silent.

 

 

_“Name?”_

_She paused, face going pale. A name. **A name!**_

_“A… Aug…” she mumbled, trying to make her voice sound deeper, “Augustin.”_

_The officer looked at the girl up and down, before writing the name down, “Who cut your hair?”_

_Her heart skipped a beat, before the officer added: “It’s atrocious, boy.”_

_“I’m sorry.” She mumbled._

_“It’ll be shaved off. Then you’ll look more like a man.”_

_She… **He** nodded, “Yes sir.”_

_A parchment was slid towards him, “Take this, and do not lose it.”_

_His name written in still drying ink, and the paper stamped with a detailed symbol that meant nothing to the boy. But, it looked important. He’d never been given anything important before._

_“This will be your identity paper, and it’s an important document. Understand, Monsieur?”_

_He clutched the paper to his chest, after reading his new name, “Thank you.”_

_“Next!”_

 

“I was sent to an all-boys school. Typical Catholic school, drenched in ridiculous amounts of God-fearing lessons… But,” Tintin shrugged, “I learned to read and write properly, I learned that there was a much bigger world out there. I learned that I could ask questions as a man – even if not all of them were met with much welcome.” She smiled a little,  “I dreamt, Captain, how I dreamt of leaving that dreadful place – of going to other countries, in the hopes that maybe I could find answers out there, that I could be _more_ then what they said I’ll ever be. I studied and wrote what the rest of the world could be like, learned as much English as I could; I knew what I wanted to be, and I was going to get it.”

 

Haddock leaned on his knees, listening intently as Tintin poured out her story, her eyes filled with emotion he had never seen before, and her voice, _her voice_ , laced with memory. It was locked up all this time, and it was like a dam being released. The more she talked, the more Haddock examined her, trying to picture Tintin as a woman, and simply couldn’t. She hid everything well. The shirts, Tintin had _always_ worn shirts with the button up, always seemed to come across as a well dressed and properly groomed young man.

Suspicion that _something_ was amiss had crossed Haddock’s mind briefly when they had first met, but all of that had disappeared as time passed, and the crazy misadventures they’d wound up in. He got used to Tintin’s odd habits, the way he spoke, the way he sat sometimes, small little details like that…

So many questions had been answered, for the time being, but as Haddock listened on, emotions he’d buried crept up on him. Emotions for something that he knew weren’t looked upon as acceptable by society…

The sea hadn’t judged him, and neither had his crew, all men escaping from something or other in their lives. Be it nagging wives, fathers-to-be that they didn’t want to become, or like Haddock, who preferred the company of men, rather then women. He had been prone to sleeping with women too, of course, but…

 

With Tintin… his feeling grew stronger, and perhaps years of guilt suddenly lifted, because of this very secret she had revealed: the reason _why_ Tintin had subtly rejected his affections without any judgement.

Of course… Tintin was supposed to be a young man, and a young man who would eventually find a woman and settle down – as hard as that was to imagine at the time. But, Haddock had settled with the simple fact that Tintin would always be his friend, his travelling companion, and no more. But it was more then he could’ve asked for. A young man like Tintin wouldn’t be caught dead sleeping with a crusty old seadog like Haddock – but Haddock had that constant _gnawing_ feeling in the back of his mind that Tintin was holding back, and not to convince himself…

 

“Once I finished school at thirteen, I became an assistant to a newspaper company for a year, before I eventually managed to get a job as a journalist when I showed that I was competent in English.” Tintin finished, “The rest… as they say, is history…”

 

Silence fell on them again, and Haddock, for all his bluster, was unusually silent in thought. Tintin sat there patiently, feeling mentally prepared for any outcome she had mapped out in her head. She wouldn’t blame the captain if he kicked her out, and never wanted to see her again. After all, she’d lied to him, point blank, all this time. Well, even if he’d never asked the right questions, Tintin knew she was not the person Haddock thought she was.

She was also prepared to leave Brussels, if it really had to come down to that. Tintin had connections Haddock didn’t know about. More secrets kept from him, but Tintin knew she could never, ever be too careful. Despite her friendship with the Thom(p)sons, Tintin was pretty sure they would (reluctantly) arrest her on some claim of fraudulence. As irritating as their mistaken arrests had been before, Tintin knew she wasn’t above the law either. At the same time, she had to bribe doctors to keep her secret when she’d been shot or injured, and it was only through luck that they were decent about it…

Some even believed that she was in disguise on purpose, or dressed as such for making travelling easier. Being in a different country of course made it easier to lie.

 

Haddock on the other hand was still trying to gather his thoughts. All this time… He supposed that, true, Tintin was in _less_ danger by being a man – curs like Allan or Rastapopoulos, or even Muller came across as men who didn’t deserve to be called as such, but _still,_ how he, _she_ , hid it so well!

Good grief, Haddock’s mind whirled, if they’d found out that Tintin was _female_ , he didn’t even dare to consider what they might’ve done…

 

When the silence grew unbearable, Haddock having folded his hands between his knees, hutched over as he looked at the fireplace with a frown, Tintin licked her lips and stood up. The captain looked ready to kill something with his intense glare at the fire, not realising he was entertaining some very dark thoughts about ‘what-if’ scenarios, and what he would do to those who’d dare -

 

“I suppose … I best be going, Captain Haddock. I’ll pack my things and leave immediately.”

He looked up at Tintin with utter surprise and quickly snapped out of it,  “What, why?”

Tintin frowned a little – wasn’t he furious a moment ago?

“… well… I doubt you’re happy with me after finding all this out, and I can understand if - ”

“Sit down and don’t be daft.” Was all Haddock said, waving a hand quickly in dismissal, “I just need a moment to think.”

Tintin slowly sat back down, gripping the armrest of the chair, “… Captain, I - ”

He shook his head, glaring at the fire again for good measure, before closing his eyes, “You’re still Tintin to me, lad.”

Tintin felt her heart swell, her jaw clenching.

“We all have our secrets.” He mumbled, and he looked a little embarrassed, “So… I have no right to throw you out. You’re still the friend I know and … and _love_. I … guess I was just shocked, not realising that you were in more danger then I’d ever thought because, well,” he glanced at Tintin’s chest once, before quickly looking at the fire again with even more determination, “And all those times I’ve done such stupid things when I drank, and when I’ve accidently hurt you, and - ”

He sighed loudly, leaned back on the chair and pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes squeezed shut, “… barnacles, I’m a massive fool.”

 

Then he felt a hand on his, and he opened his eyes to see Tintin having knelt by his side, “I know how you feel about me, Captain.” She licked her lips again nervously, “I knew… for a while, really. Even before you could ask me. And… it’s why I could never return those feelings, as much as I desperately wished to, _because_ I know that this secret must be hard to accept, and… for that, I truly am sorry. I’m not what you thought I was, and it can change a lot of things - ”

“Lad, I’ve slept with women too, you know, I just found I preferred men.” Haddock laid his other hand on Tintin’s, and his voice was quieter, shier,  “Doesn’t change how I still feel about you though. And none of this,” he indicated to Tintin’s frame,

“Never will change it.”

Tintin smiled, before it broke into a grin, and Haddock found himself in a tight embrace.

 

He gently pushed Tintin back a moment to stand, and he gladly returned it, and they held each other tightly for a long while. Haddock stroked Tintin’s hair, simply taking in everything. No, nothing had changed. It was all out in the open now, and it was fine.

Well, except for one thing.

 

“Are you absolutely sure… that this is what you want, lad?” Haddock asked softly in her ear, “I mean, I’m… well, a good bit older then you, and - ”

“Archibald,” Tintin moved back to make him look at her, “This is what I want. This is where I have felt the safest, and the most welcome.” She stroked his cheeks, her eyes watering a little, “Never, in my life, had I had a place I’ve truly called a home until you asked me to live with you at Marlinspike. And never, have I had someone look out for me as you do, no matter the danger. Even when I was following on a _whim_ , you followed me to find Chang. Nearly… gave your life for me.” Tintin shook his head, “There is no other man I want, except you.”

Haddock grinned back, before he took Tintin’s face gently and kissed her.

Now it _really_ was fine.

 


	4. Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Contains M/F sex.

Things had returned to normal for Marlinspike Hall.

 

Bianca, however had insisted she stay to help care for Tintin, until Irma had reminded her of a concert in London, which led her nearly demanding the phone to cancel.

Tintin had to convince her otherwise that Bianca could come back and visit.

Even the Captain had agreed, and Tintin was quick to notice that the air between them seemed to be clear again. She could only guess they had spoken in private while she was bedridden. Goodness knows what sorts of things had happened – as she’d also spotted Calculus and Irma giving each other a more-then-friends-kiss goodbye when they thought no one was looking. It seemed all sorts of secrets had been floating around the mansion over the last few days…

 

At the front door, Bianca had embraced Tintin for a long moment, before giving Haddock a pointed look that said ‘ _Mind_ her!’

Tintin couldn’t thank Irma enough either, waving to the car as it disappeared before Haddock and Nestor promptly ushered Tintin back inside.

Before Tintin even knew what was going on, she was in a dressing gown, in bed again, and given what seemed her sixth cup of tea that morning. The captain hadn’t left her side since, and assured her that he never would. They had all the time to talk now.

 

That same night, they were there, together in Haddock’s (locked) room and both were kneeling on the bed facing each other. First things first, Tintin had to face her fear.

But, Haddock knew things had to be taken slowly, and he preferred it somehow. His secret hadn’t been so heavy as Tintin’s, and he hadn’t lived with such fear of discovery as she had.

He reckoned if she woke up one morning and had changed into a man, it wouldn’t bother her one bit. It was actually quite surprising how incredibly uncomfortable Tintin was about herself, even despite Haddock knowing her secret. He could only imagine the dreadful fear… the _loneliness_ from harbouring such a secret…

 

It took her a long moment, but when Tintin started to unbutton her shirt, it was slow, and Haddock noticed that her hands were trembling. He touched hers, stilling her movements, “We don’t have to do this now. We have all the time in the world.”

Tintin shook her head, “It’s not that… even when I’m alone, I feel at odds about it. I… _forget_ sometimes, that I’m a woman. Then when I undress… well… It’s like the world is suddenly watching me.”

“Only _I’m_ watching you.” Haddock smiled, and Tintin smiled back before she then slid her hands from his and placed them on the lapels of her shirt.

“I trust you.”

Haddock felt the tension on her skin when he slid the shirt off after unbuttoning it, and he laid his hands on her shoulders for a moment to try and reassure her.

Tintin took a long breath and released it a moment later, “…sorry.”

Haddock dismissed it with a smile and a shake of his head before sliding her vest off with difficulty, and Tintin had to help get it off. He turned it over in his hands, impressed with the design. There was Velcro sewn around the chest, making it really tight to wear.

“I had to ... make one, when bandages were starting to get expensive.” Tintin offered quietly.

It looked a little ragged, and Haddock guessed she’d been using it for years. When he looked at Tintin, she glanced to the side, colour creeping up her cheeks and into her hairline. She struggled to resist the urge to cover herself, her fingers curling up on her knees.

Her breasts were small, but not small enough to simply throw a jumper over, and there was a faint red outline of where the binder had them pressed down. Tintin had freckles dotted here and there on her body, but mostly across her breastbone like a constellation.

What with the worldly antics she got herself into, it was no surprise that she was more built then a typical woman her age, her arms and stomach tight with muscle. There was a scar or two as well, but those would be for another time, knowing she likely had more. Tintin half-raised her hand before quickly gripping her forearm, her face almost burning with how red she’d gone.

Haddock grinned at the sight, finding it unbelievably precious. He reached to touch her shoulder, making her look up.

“Can I ask something, Tintin?” he asked softly.

She looked up at him, sliding her hands under her knees in some effort to stop fidgeting, “Of course, Captain.”

“You’ve never… been with anyone, at all, no?”

Her eyebrows rose slightly at the question, and a sudden unpleasant memory crossed her mind, “… No, why?”

“Do you know how sex works?” he asked seriously, “Because the last thing I want to do is take you by surprise.”

Tintin half-laughed, “Yes, of course. I’m not _that_ bad.”

Haddock raised his hands, grinning back, “Just asking, just asking.”

“I mean, I learned about it, I _read_ about it, but I … well…” Tintin trailed. It was so, so very odd to see her look so uncertain of herself. Tintin had always been so calm, so assured and in control.

 

_How the hell had she ended up as a **colonel** right in the middle of a revolution?! _

_Waking up in a uniform and a massive hangover was not something to get into the habit of._

_The more worrying aspect was that she found Alcazar more fascinating then was safe…_

_It was also worrying that he seemed to be also just as interested in her…. But maybe it was just the culture? He seemed fond of keeping her close._

_Staying alive was also something of a good skill to have, what with two attempts on the general’s life already._

_Still, he seemed more interested in playing chess then running a country…_

“Come here.” Haddock asked softly, offering his hand. Tintin took it without hesitation, and she sat between his legs, wrapping her arms around his chest. Stroking her face, Haddock held Tintin close, “Nothing to be embarrassed about. Honest.”

She smiled, leaning her head on his shoulder, and squeezing him a bit more tightly then he expected, “I know. I’ll try not to be.”

Kissing her forehead, Haddock stroked a comforting hand down her arm, “I can help you make another one of those vest things, if you like. These tight bands can’t be comfortable.”

Haddock ran a finger through the pale red mark across Tintin’s back, and she shuddered a little.

 

_“That’s Checkmate, general!”_

_She wasn’t expecting the sudden bombardment of curses, and the moment she saw the gun, her blood turned cold._

_Alcazar thought it was hilarious, of course, after firing several shots and she still found herself alive, the victim of nothing more then blank bullets._

_“What the hell do you think you’re playing at?!” she yelled, slamming her hands on the table and knocked the chair over as she stood up too quickly._

_Surprise crossed Alcazar’s face, before he began to laugh, setting the gun on the table as he moved towards her._

_“Just a little joke is all!”_

_“Well it’s not a very funny one, general.” She muttered, “Excuse me, I’m going to retire for the night.”_

_A strong hand gripped her arm gently, and she turned to look at Alcazar cautiously._

_“True, perhaps the time for joking should stop now.” He said, pulling her towards him, and closing the distance between them._

_A large hand stroked her face gently, and her breathing stopped. The cigar smoke on his breath wasn’t unpleasant. It added to the charm._

_“You’re actually quite pretty, close up. Makes me think perhaps… you’re not quite what you seem...”_

_A gentle whisper. Warmth against her ear._

_“...are you?”_

_Damn. That **voice**._

_Swallow. Breathe. Don’t look at his face, or those dark eyes she’d tried to avoid looking at for too long._

_Move, why can’t I move? My face feels like it’s burning._

_Another hand stroked her arm, then her back, coaxing. Tempting._

_“The tailor took the liberty of telling me your little secret, chica…”_

_Oh no. **Oh no.**_

_Grip his arms… oh wow, they’re huge. Push. Dammit, push him off!_

_I’m shaking, why am I shaking? Dammit, I shouldn’t - !_

_A shuddered breath, hot lips on her throat, rough fingers slid under her torn shirt. She felt her backside hit the table edge. It shouldn’t have excited her as much as it did._

_“I know you can stop me, but you don’t seem to want me to.”_

_Can’t stand. My legs. Can’t stand…_

_Say something. No! Say no!_

_But, but … this was so exciting, and dangerous, and…_

**_BOOM!_ **

_…. Oh God. What happened? Alcazar was on the floor, still alive, still conscious  - and somehow she’d knocked the table over completely on its side._

_Breathe. Breathe. Don’t cry._

**_Breathe._ **

 

_All **this** for a fetish?_

 

**_Merde._ **

 

 

“Tintin?”

 

“Yes?” Tintin answered quickly, shaken out of her thoughts. She blinked at Haddock, wondering why he suddenly looked concerned.

 

“Did anyone else ever find out?”

 

When Haddock was sober, he had a rather surprising acute sense of people. Specifically Tintin. He would just _know_ when something was wrong.

Tintin didn’t answer, and the stunned look on her face answered the captain. He gripped her forearms, taking on an expression that meant absolute murder.

 

“Who, Tintin? And did he hurt you?”

 

Tintin shook her head, pressing her hands on his chest, (and for a second marvelled how solid it felt),  “No, I wasn’t hurt, Captain, please, calm down.”

 

Haddock gave Tintin a long, hard look, trying to find the answer in her eyes. Then he let go of her arms, and she felt him slowly relax under her, his palms resting on her thighs.

“… I’ll find out somehow.” He warned, pointing at her, “And I’m gonna kill ‘im.”

Tintin sighed, eyes raised to the ceiling, “You’d probably have to get in line…”

 

“Pardon?” Haddock asked, before Tintin just shook her head and smiled helplessly.

 

Silence fell between them then, and Tintin rested her head back on his shoulder, revering in the simple warmth of Haddock’s skin on hers. Even being bare-chested didn’t bother her as much anymore. He smelled faintly of tobacco, mixed in with his own natural smell, musky and rough. It was making her feel pleasantly dizzy, and Tintin closed her eyes. Then Haddock tilted them both down to lie across the bed, but didn’t do anything else sans kiss the top of her head. She curled around him, wanting more of that warmth. Warmth both thought they’d never have.

“What do you want to do, Captain?” Tintin asked after a while, though she enjoyed the feeling of just simply being held, resting her palm on his chest again. Her fingers played with the black curls of hair that peeked out from under Haddock’s shirt.

“Anything you want to do.” Haddock replied, “You’re the captain this time.”

Tintin shook her head, “… I really… wouldn’t know where to start, to be honest.”

Sitting up a little, she looked up at the captain, “… could… I stay here, with you, tonight?”

Haddock smiled, “The bed seems to be big enough.”

Tintin made an amused sound, shaking her head before resting it back onto Haddock’s chest.

 

_

 

“A package for you, Miss Tintin.” Nestor announced, handing it to her.

“Thank you Nes-” Tintin paused midway of taking the box and looked at the butler with slightly wide eyes. She wasn’t sure if Nestor knew, or even if how Calculus had felt about the whole thing… And she admitted, it was slight cowardice on her part that she didn’t ask, either…

Calculus though hadn’t even indicated if he was even slightly upset as he’d been trying out various… ah, experiments to see if he could cure Tintin faster, despite actually visiting her in her room during the day to speak to her. By the time Tintin had tried (repeatedly) to ask if Calculas could forgive her, he apparently misheard her and brought up hot chocolate instead for both of them. Tintin was quick to spot the hearing aid still in, but just smiled into her cup.

As for _any_ topic on Irma, Tintin never knew such a shade of red could be made possible by a human being.

 

“You’ll have to pardon me, Miss Tintin,” Nestor was actually trying not to sound amused, “But I put two and two together when doing your laundry quite some time back.”

“…Oh.” Tintin replied, and felt the weight of the box in her arms then as she tried to guess how _long_ Nestor must’ve known, “You’re… okay with it then?”

 

“A butler’s place is to serve, not to judge. But,” he did smile then, “He also knows how important happiness is. You and the Professor returned Marlinspike to its rightful master, and,” he cleared his throat, glancing across the hallway before whispering almost conspiratorially, “You tend to keep the master off the drink.”

Tintin tried not to grin too much, “Thank you, Nestor.”

Nestor nodded once, and started towards the kitchen, “I shall have lunch ready by the noon, Mister Tintin.”

Tintin smiled after him, and made a mental note to suggest giving Nestor a pay raise, and a holiday - a really _long_ holiday.

Carrying the box into the living room, Tintin was a little baffled as to what it was, until she saw Italian stamps sitting neatly next to the address.

“Who’s it from, lad?” Haddock asked from the armchair, smoking his pipe as usual while reading the paper.

“I don’t know – I don’t remember ordering anything.” Tintin replied, frowning a little as she tore open the box. When Haddock found the silence to carry on for a bit too long, he turned to Tintin – and she had gone completely beet red in the face. Now it was Haddock’s turn to frown, and he stood up before Tintin turned around, covering the box with her body.

“Uh, it’s… nothing!” Tintin replied, and turned again to hastily close the box. She then rushed upstairs, leaving Haddock completely baffled.

The rest of the evening was spent trying to guess what had gotten Tintin so flustered, but it was only when they retired to bed that Tintin disappeared for a short while. Still confused, and more then a little concerned by now, Haddock got his bathroom duties out of the way before he stepped into the bedroom.

 

Haddock paused at the doorway, and his eyebrows shot to the top of his forehead. Tintin sat there, at the edge of the bed, and was wearing…

 

… _lingerie_?

 

“… It was Bianca’s idea.” Tintin shook her head in embarrassment and stood up, “I think I look silly.”

 

_Yeah, he really doesn’t like this, why would…_

She paused, and held her breath as Haddock quietly closed the door behind him, and with a gentle click of the key, locked it. A warm smile crossed his face, and his eyes unashamedly roamed over Tintin’s body. The outfit was light pink and white – nothing too extravagant, but it definitely highlighted Haddock’s favourite things about Tintin. It added to her already strong beautiful legs, the lacy bra accented her chest quite flatteringly, and dare he admit, he found the shyness quite adorable.

 

Haddock walked to her, being a head and a half taller at least, and he slid a hand over the waistband of the light pink undergarment, “Actually… I rather like it.”

Tintin gave a little shrug, lips parting to prove otherwise before Haddock kissed her softly, and she dismissed whatever it was she was going to say and returned it, smiling. For all her experience as a reporter, Tintin was finding it harder and harder to express exactly what she felt, and what she thought about to the captain.

Never before did something cross her path and baffle her more then what she should do, or say, or _feel_.

Alcazar had confused and excited her, but that… that was nothing more then being caught off-guard, naivety used against her. And thankfully, the captain had forgotten the subject, or simply chose not to ask. Tintin wasn’t keen on the Captain hopping on the next flight to San Theodoras…

 

But, Alcazar had since not tried any more tricks – caught up in his constant power struggle with Tapioca. Revealing her secret also didn’t seem to be on his agenda either. After all, who would believe him? And ego aside, Tintin knew that making an enemy of her would not put Alcazar in a good position, as loathed as she was to think about it… 

 

But, Haddock…

Haddock was the embodiment of safe, home, warmth. Acceptance.

 

Her head would turn pleasantly dizzy, and words would become an unintelligible mess. The captain had been a saint for his patience, as Tintin was convinced no other man would wait as long as he had – months had passed as she had recovered. Adventuring was _out of the question_ , _absolutely **none** whatsoever_ \- as had been repeated to her by Bianca’s doctor. But for once… Tintin didn’t mind. Neither did Snowy, or the Captain, of course. The _Petit Vingtieme_ were happy enough to let her off work… Tintin knew she was too valuable to let go.

 

The illness was a hindrance of course. Some days were better then others, and the sudden coughing fits were not exactly pleasant. Even _walking_ outside for too long made her wheezy. But, Tintin knew she’d be a long time yet in recovery, and it was a real test of her patience.

But, it was made easier sharing a bed with Haddock of course, when she’d been given the all clear that the captain wasn’t at risk in catching the illness from her.

She’d always shared a bed with Snowy – his permanent place at the foot of her bed, but now, sharing it with Haddock, she wasn’t sure if she would ever be able to sleep alone again.

Nonetheless, as mature and wise as Tintin was, there were times when she was also reminded how young she was when it came to … _other_ matters regarding herself and her captain.

 

True, there had been slight fear – she didn’t know her own body terribly well, but the last few weeks, Haddock had made it _feel_ like hers. He’d been patient, and kind, and just…

 

Even the odd night when Tibet’s snow invaded her dreams – when Tintin thought she had failed Chang and Haddock had plummeted into a white grave – she’d wake up with strong arms around her, reminding her that both were still very much alive.

 

Kissing him back softly, Tintin started to deftly undo the buttons of his shirt, sparing no skin as she slid her hands over his shoulders, loving how warm he felt under her slightly cool fingers. Haddock let the shirt fall off, and in a little moment of madness, he suddenly lifted Tintin effortlessly, one hand wound around her waist, and he rested her thigh across his forearm. He climbed onto the bed, one knee buried into the mattress while Tintin’s free leg held some of her own weight as well.

Haddock kissed along Tintin’s throat, his voice a low rumble, “I _really_ like it.”

“Pink … is not really my favourite colour, but... nevermind…” she murmured, stroking Haddock’s face as she kissed him softly,  “We’ll let Bianca… have her fun.”

 

“Speaking of fun, what do you have in mind?” Haddock smiled between kisses, and Tintin stopped him a moment, looking at him seriously, “Let tonight be the night.”

The captain paused, feeling both delighted and concerned at the same time, “Are you absolutely sure?”

She smiled, “Never been surer.”

Haddock smiled, his breath warm against Tintin’s face as he pressed his forehead against hers, “I love you. You know that?”

                

“ _Je t’aime, capitaine.”_ Tintin’s face broke into a grin – saying the words felt wonderful. Haddock grinned back, and his warm fingers sneaked under the hem of her underwear.

 

Tintin closed her eyes, and her lips parted as Haddock started to kiss along her jawline, deft fingers moving between the warm, and quickly moistening folds of skin between her legs.

Tintin shivered a little, still unsure what noise to make, if she should even _make_ any, though Haddock had teased stifled moans and cries out before. It didn’t take long for him to coax noise out of Tintin again however when he ran his lips and teeth over her collarbone and down to give some attention to her breasts; Tintin arching her body against Haddock’s fingers, teasingly slow. She found it hard to hold her weight with the one leg after a while, and Haddock eventually lowered her down on her back, joking that he hadn’t quite thought that little plan through. Tintin found herself murmuring a plan about using the wall.

“Next time,” she smiled, and Haddock hummed in agreement.

Tintin grinned, shaking her head. Then she paused as Haddock gave her a peculiar smile. His teasing had unfortunately stopped, but Tintin could practically hear him thinking.

“Are you up to something?” Tintin asked softly with a smile, before Haddock pointed to himself innocently, moving backwards on his knees before kissing Tintin’s stomach, “Of course not, _mon cher_.”

Tintin watched with bated breath, quickly realising what Haddock wished to do as his lips traced the line down her navel. His fingers deftly slid her underwear off, and a moment later Tintin’s head fell backwards, mouth open in a silent moan.

Well. This was different. 

Somehow, after a few moments of a warm wetness she never thought existed, Tintin managed to raise her head and see what Haddock was doing – though she could obviously _feel_ what it was, but seeing it…

Tintin felt her whole face flush, and a quick glance from Haddock made him chuckle softly.

She brushed fingers gently through Haddock’s hair, her breathing slightly ragged, “… C… Captain…”

This seemed to only encourage him more, and Tintin dug her fingers into his scalp by reaction – uttering a quick apology afterward. Haddock simply shook his head; smiling and continuing to lap like the cat with the cream, his beard tickling her thighs. Tintin needed to grip _something_ , anything that didn’t involve almost pulling her captain’s scalp off as her hips nearly jutted into Haddock’s face.

Before Tintin realised what she was doing, she was pleading softly in French, and both hands gripping her pillow so tightly, her knuckles were white.

Warm, strong hands were holding her hips firmly, occasionally caressing down her legs, and Tintin swore she was going to explode. Her body moved of it’s own accord, as if it had no certainty of where to go – until her foot brushed off something that made Haddock take a deep intake of breath.

Tintin didn’t need to look, suddenly grinning whenever an idea struck her, and she brushed the top of her foot off that same spot again, making sure that… _yes,_ it was what she thought it was.

Haddock paused, eyes alight with lust and amusement, “… trying to behave here.”

“I don’t want you to behave.” Tintin dug her foot in further, and curled the toes of her other foot around the hem of his pants, “I want you to rock this bed until the legs break.”

Haddock let a laugh, before he kissed the top of Tintin’s belly button, looking a little more serious, “I also want you to be as ready as possible, _mon cher_.”

 

Tintin nodded once in understanding, knowing that Haddock was more then likely worrying too much, and for once, was glad of it, an underlying twinge of anxiety sitting at the pit of her stomach. Nonetheless, this burn, this maddening quiver Tintin felt had to be dealt with _now._

She sat up and kissed Haddock in one fluid motion, and Tintin realised with an odd curiosity that she tasted of nothing. The captain letting a small noise of surprise, but by no means complaining as she coaxed him to lie down, hands spreading over his chest.

But, it was Haddock’s turn now, and Tintin gave him no chance as she was quick to relieve him of his black trousers, and figured that Haddock was in just as much…. _distress_ as she was.

“Tell me what to do.” Tintin whispered, ghosting fingers over Haddock’s hard sex. He took a sharp intake of breath – pain or pleasure, or both, Tintin wasn’t sure, but he motioned for Tintin to wait a moment before reaching over to the nightstand. Pulling the drawer out, Haddock took out a vial of oil, and another item that looked like a square piece of paper. Tintin, thumbs brushing Haddock’s thighs patiently, watched as he tore open the square, and took out a ring made of rubber.

 

“I think it’s a bit early to want little Haddocks or Tintins running around just yet…” Haddock smiled, and it quickly dawned on Tintin what the rubber object was for. Once watching Haddock and learning how to put it on him, Tintin couldn’t help, in her curiosity, to feel the rubber.

“Clever.” Tintin smiled, and only had a few moments to actually ponder the possibility of children (not even so much as wanting, but, just the fact that such an option was _there_ , and what sort of parents they would be, and…) until her thoughts were interrupted.

Haddock grinned, and waved the oil bottle at her, “Be my guest.”

Grinning, Tintin slicked the oil over her fingers and gently over Haddock’s sex, marvelling how warm and thick and heavy it felt in her hands. She was quick to note Haddock’s reactions as she teasingly made shapes with her fingers along the length, and kissing his navel for several moments, and didn’t realise just how much she was teasing him until he suddenly, and easily, pulled her up to him, face to face.

“Ginger _devil_ ,” Haddock cursed softly, before rolling them over, eyes burning with lust. Tintin grinned, and dug her knees into his sides encouragingly, her hands wrapped around his neck and her breath tickling his nose.

“Please, captain.”

“Ye’re ready so?” Haddock asked, even when his arousal was almost painful, and Tintin crushed her lips against his, pulling his body down with her knees and hands.  Haddock was deliberately slow, careful. Moments that felt like a lifetime, passed.

 

Tintin’s eyes slid open, her body rigid against Haddock’s. It wasn’t… there was no pain, but, there was a sudden terror that if she moved –

Tintin couldn’t stop her body from starting to shake gently.

“Relax…” Haddock whispered, holding the smaller, body gently as he felt Tintin’s thighs press tightly against his ribs, “You’ll get used to the feeling quickly.”

Tintin only nodded, feeling a kiss on her shoulder. After a few seconds, Haddock felt Tintin relax against him, her thumbs running over his back. Without a word, Haddock slid out slowly, and moved back in – and it was a blur for when it had become a quickened pace, both letting gasps and moans escape. Tintin couldn’t think, only feel, and it was something she never wanted to stop. Haddock was leaning on his hands, his black hair slightly damp with sweat as he moved in time with Tintin’s body. She looked up at him, eyes locked onto his as her hands gripped the backs of his thighs, nails raking across his skin.

It wasn’t enough, as sometimes, Haddock forgot how physically strong Tintin could be when she suddenly pulled him down effortlessly – fingers squeezing the back of his neck as she purposefully moaned into his ear, and whispered a command that nearly sent Haddock reeling.

 

“ _Harder._ ”

 

Haddock felt fingers dig tightly into his skin when he did as commanded, and it only fuelled him further.

 

\---

 

Tintin gazed up at the ceiling, oddly realising she felt hyper-aware of everything around her. Her heartbeat was slowing down, and her breath grew quiet after a while. Her lungs burned, but she didn’t care.

Haddock’s whole body thrummed with warmth, and she could feel his own heartbeat slow down as well. They laid there together in a tangle of limbs for a while, simply encased in each other’s warmth and presence. Nothing needed to be said, the two smiling at each other, sharing a kiss. Being inside this room, with it’s locked doors and windows, and encased in Haddock’s body, Tintin concurred that perhaps she could very much live here in this spot for the rest of her life quite happily.

They remained like that for a long time, until Tintin coerced a quickly dozing-off Haddock to rest his head on her shoulder – and within minutes, both were asleep.

 

Their peaceful evenings had returned.

Well, until the next phone call at least.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone enjoyed. 
> 
> Again, if there's anything I might have gotten wrong in regards to how I wrote transgenders, well ... let me know. 
> 
> For the record, Tintin goes between he and she, so s/he doesn't mind either way. Bianca however goes by 'she' - basically.


End file.
